The banal quotation on his shorts doesn't do Spurs justice

I bought these new shorts on Saturday at Spurs. I am now wearing and reading them as I sit here, talking to my Amstrad. My lips do move when I type, which is why after finishing a long book, my jaw aches.

For the first time in decades, since they destroyed the old "Shelf", I sat in the East Stand. I went with some friends in our street who were making up a party, taking food and drinks, as it was a 12.45 kick-off. They had a spare seat, so instead of sitting in the West Stand as usual, I decided to go with them. Sue, their cheerleader, is an excellent cook, so I knew the food would be good. And also Derek, her husband, said he'd drive. Oh bliss.

The only drag was that they decided to set off one and a half hours before kick-off. Spurs were playing Arsenal, so parking could be even more hellish than usual. I don't know why they don't bring back those "Football Special" buses. I'd use them. It now means you spend twice as long getting to and from a game as watching it.

But we got there easily, and parked, with loads of time to spare, so I persuaded them to go into the Spurs mega shop to look at the latest rubbishy souvenirs. Me and Derek got rather carried away, well it was very hot, and bought a pair of Spurs shorts each, price £24.99. I couldn't quite see what was Spursish about them, except the little fly button saying SPURS, but they looked pretty good. I do like instant buys, as I hate shopping.

It was strange being in the East Stand. Opposite me, an Irish flag was unfurled when Robbie Keane stepped out, which I'd never noticed before when I sat high up in the West Stand. There were fans with their rituals and their friendships I knew nothing about. The smells of the lavs were different, and the refreshments. I picked up that East Stand regulars don't care much for the West Standers, considering them corporate prawn sandwich ponces who don't clap, and create little atmosphere.

It is true that the scenes of utter joy and total disbelief, people dancing and hugging each other, when Spurs equalised in the 94th minute, were unlike anything I have seen in the West Stand.

I came home, quite elated, and immediately put on my shorts. I expected my wife to say how horrible, why did you buy them? All she said was - What's that writing? I hadn't noticed that on the side, above the pocket, were three lines of what looked like verse, artistically and discreetly embroidered, which read: "It's been my life/Tottenham Hotspur/And I love the club." How banal, I thought. Surely they could have come up with some better lines from the extensive Spurs literary archives. Such as, hmm. Hold on. I'm pondering.

Liverpool have all those brilliant quotes from Bill Shankly. Notts Forest fans have a sea of pearls left behind by Cloughy. Fergie and Wenger have coined some good put-downs, while Chelsea could cover an entire wardrobe, not just a pair of shorts, with José's bons mots.

Alas, Bill Nicholson, Spurs's greatest manager, left us no wisdoms, aperçus, or even any Big Ronisms. He didn't waste time shooting his mouth off or talking to the press.

Then I thought of Danny Blanchflower, Spurs's greatest captain. In 1962, after the double season, he said: "Football is not really about winning, or goals, or saves, or supporters . . . it's about glory."

Now why couldn't the shorts manufacturers have embroidered those words? Much better. And it did catch the essence of last Saturday. Gloriously jammy . . .

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